


Solstice

by stellarbisexual



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bonfires, College, M/M, Marijuana, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15793338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarbisexual/pseuds/stellarbisexual





	Solstice

Ever since sophomore year of high school, Richie’s been a fervent celebrator of summer solstice.  He doesn’t follow the typical rituals or even care much about the traditional meaning of the holiday; he’s always just taken the date and made it his own.  

In high school, it was an excuse to celebrate the end of the school year, so Richie’s particular tradition has always revolved around a nighttime beach bonfire where some of them would throw in school supplies and final papers, and Richie would gleefully toss his gym uniform so high in the air that it would almost inflate like a parachute before finally landing in the flames.

Now that they’re in college, the festivities have settled down some, particularly since they end up coming home nearly a month before solstice anyway; by the time the end of June actually rolls around, they’re all pretty well settled into their summer routines.  

Most of the others make up different excuses for their families why they all hang out the night of June twenty-first; both Stan and Eddie are afraid their folks’ll think they’re turning into pagans otherwise.  But they all still indulge Richie, and that’s the important thing in Richie’s eyes.

“And now,” Richie begins grandly, hand digging in the small pocket of his backpack, “The ceremonial gathering of plants and healing herbs.”  He extracts a tiny package made of paper towels, and unwraps it to reveal two tightly rolled joints.  

Bill lets out a high-pitched laugh that sounds oddly quiet and distorted beneath the crackle of the fire and the crash of the ocean waves.  Eddie watches Richie fondly as he lights both in his mouth and passes one in each direction before even taking a hit himself.  One he hands to Stan, on his right, with no remarks, but the other he leans all the way into Eddie’s space to hold up a mere inch or two from his lips.  Eddie jerks backward on instinct, but the corners of his mouth are curled upward as he watches the firelight dance in Richie’s warm brown eyes.  

“You gonna say no to drugs, Eds?”  Then he puts on a cartoonishly sinister voice.  “ _Or are you gonna be one of the cool kids?_ ”

Eddie tears the joint from his fingers with a playful twist to his mouth.  “I’d call you a bully if I didn’t know you got your ass kicked at least three times a week in junior high  _and_  high school.”

Richie watches him bring the joint to his lips and inhale, exactly the way he taught him to do in the privacy of Richie’s bedroom junior year.  He sighs, high and sing-songy.  “The good old days.  Nobody ever dunks my head in toilets at UCLA.”

“Lucky toilets.”  Stan’s retort is muted against the night sky.

Instead of bickering, Richie continues looking at Eddie as he passes the joint along to Ben and settles back into his spot, sweatshirt enveloping his lean frame.  When Eddie finally catches him staring, they share a quiet smile.  

A burst of laughter down the beach grabs Richie’s attention.  His head whips around, and he discovers a group of women in linens sending what looks like a beach ball filled with light into the air, where, after quite a bit of teamwork, they get it high and sailing out over the ocean, the ball of light becoming tinier and tinier as they clap and cheer.

“What the hell?” Richie watches the little pinprick of yellow light with awe.

“Oh,” Ben says lightly.  “Sky lanterns.  Cool.”

Richie whips his head to Ben.  “Huh?”

“They’re basically like mini hot air balloons.”

“There’s actual  _fire_  in there?” Eddie asks, half-alarmed and half-intrigued if his taut body language is anything to go by.

Richie watches as the women light a second one.  “That is  _bitchin.’_ ”  He rises to his feet and brushes the sand off his jeans, extending a hand to Eddie.  “Eds, come with me.  Moms love you.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Eddie sighs deeply, though he doesn’t put up a fight beyond that, slapping his palm into Richie’s, quickly hopping to his feet, and following his footprints in the sand.  

As they approach, they watch the second lantern take flight–and have a slightly easier time doing so than the first.  They’re still a few yards from the group when the woman facilitating all this greets them with a bright, “Hi, there.”

“Hi, there,” Eddie and Richie parrot, smiling at the other women sitting around the circle.  

“I’m guessing you want a demonstration,” she says.  They nod dumbly.  “You’re over eighteen, right?”

“I’m twenty-one; he’s twenty,” Eddie says, and predictably, the group looks immediately taken with his sweet face.  

The woman steps closer, her face kind and patient–well, what little they can see of it in the dark, anyway.  “Before you set it off, you’re supposed to make a wish or set an intention for the next year.”

“Intention?” Eddie asks.

“What you want your life to be like–or what  _you_  want to be like.  What you intend for yourself in the year ahead.”

“Cool,” they both say, totally in sync, taken with the magic of the act.  

She’s already setting one up for Richie.  “You don’t have to light it; I’ll take care of that.  Your job is to get it off the ground and as high in the air as you can.  We’ll help you out, too.”  One of the women raises a half-empty bottle of wine to them.  “But you have to be the one driving it.”

Once the lantern is lit, she holds it upright and hands it carefully over to Richie, his fingertips holding the wire rim on the bottom.  

She watches, her voice sage and encouraging.  “You’ll be able to tell when it’s ready to leave your hand.”  Off to their left, Eddie is keeping his distance, hands hovering near his own mouth.  “Think about your intention.”

“Do I have to keep it to myself?  Is it like a birthday wish?” Richie asks breathlessly.  

“Yes!  Don’t tell anybody!” One of the women in the group shouts.

The woman helping him touches his elbow softly.  “There are no rules around it, but I like the ritual of keeping it to myself.”

Richie tries to think of a solid intention or even a wish for the next year, but one isn’t materializing; all he sees when he tries to visualize something is Eddie’s face.  He smirks, shooting actual Eddie a wink.  He’s as good an intention as any.  

Eventually, he feels the lantern starting to lift from his fingers of its own accord, so he just lets it go, the whole group cheering–along with their five friends at the next bonfire–as they watch it float off into the starry sky.  He pulls Eddie close, wrapping his arms around him from behind.  “It’s  _our_  sky lantern, Eds.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says with little bite, slapping his forearm but making no move to wriggle out from his grasp the way he used to years ago.  “Ya weirdo.”

“Oh no; he gets one, too,” the woman insists, already setting up another one.  

“Oh God,” Eddie says, finally peeling Richie’s arms from around him, eyes wide and full of trepidation in the firelight.  “Does it hurt?” he asks Richie.

“No,” he assures him.  “It’s a little hot, but that’s it.  Nothing a Spaghetti Man can’t handle.”

Eddie’s try at the lantern is a little bumpier than Richie’s; the first time he holds it, he freaks out, convinced he’s going to burn his hand off, and nearly sets the thing aflame by letting it fall to the sand.  Their guide manages to save it and get it back into Eddie’s hand with some soothing words.  

Richie’s always been not just patient with Eddie but kind of sweet on him, truth be told.  The little things about him that drive most people nuts have only made Richie fonder over the years, to the point where he’s full-on enamored of even Eddie’s most irrational moments.  He watches as Eddie, every muscle in his body on edge, keeps his distance from the lantern, breathing deeply and audibly as he obediently lets it fill.  As much as he’s grown into his newfound independence since going to NYU, some things haven’t changed.  Maybe they never will.

Richie’s kind of okay with that.

By the time Eddie’s lantern is soaring off into the distance, he’s ecstatic, eyes and mouth wide and bright, pushing the hair out of his eyes where the beach breeze tousled it.  Richie isn’t even watching the lantern.  Their friends cheer even louder, far in the background.

Richie cuffs him gently on the chin.  “What’d you wish for, Eds?”

Eddie’s eyes find him in the dark and he smirks, his cheeks going hotter than the lantern, unconcerned with hiding the fact that he has a secret.  


End file.
